The Man Without A Face

by The Man Without a Face (retail) (epub)

  “Does that sound queer to you, Henry?”

  “I don’t know what to think, sir,” answered Henry. “Queer things seem to have happened all around here.”

  “Nothing else, Henry?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Well, then, let us try and take stock for a little and see where we are, for our visitor may arrive at any moment. The most interesting point is still that we are here at all—and here because Miss Williams wanted us to be here. Our visit coincides with that of a gentleman known to his friends as the ‘Head’. At the same time Miss Williams leaves her bedroom by the window to go for a drive in a motor-car.”

  “A funny time to do it, sir.”

  “Yes, Henry, but she had a headache and couldn’t sleep. She told me so herself with the utmost frankness. She didn’t want to disturb the whole household, so she went down by a rope. Very thoughtful, Henry.”

  “Very fishy, I call it, sir.”

  “And where did she go, Henry?”

  “You think she did go to the ‘Sun,’ sir?”

  “Not a bad idea, Henry.”

  “Maybe, Henry,” said Harrison, but his smile was one of approval. “The coincidence is very strong, isn’t it? We’re accusing this very attractive lady of shocking things, Henry, you know—a midnight assignation and foreigners and all that. But it does fit just a little, doesn’t it?”

  “Two pieces of a very large puzzle, I should say, sir.”

  “You’re right, Henry; and if two pieces seem to fit right at the beginning, it’s a great encouragement to go on, isn’t it? Because then you believe it is a puzzle you might be able to solve. Then we have William Marston.”

  “I can’t fit him in anywhere, sir.”

  “Three pieces straight away is expecting a great deal, Henry; and, after all, he may be no part of the puzzle. Something has been going on here which we don’t understand. Miss Williams seems to think our presence may be useful. All the coincidences seem to be working mightily well until Marston hits Bamberger on the head. Now, Henry, did this unfortunate business upset their plans, and is the whole plot now over? Was it something they were planning in connection with Bamberger, and then, by sheer bad luck, did Marston queer the pitch?”

  “That’s a possible solution, sir.”

  “Then Miss Williams has wasted her time.”

  “I suppose so, sir.”

  “If she has, Henry, she’s a thundering good actress. She was amazingly pleasant to me last night and did not look at all like a disappointed woman. Rather the opposite. And she isn’t the sort of woman who wastes her time.”

  “But we haven’t got our third piece, sir.”

  “No, Henry, but we have two more points to consider. The foreigners at the ‘Sun’ went at lunch-time. You are certain of that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So the accident—as it happened afterward—could not have affected their plans, as far as we may assume.”

  “No, sir.”

  “And that butler, Henry?”

  “Well, sir?”

  “He wasn’t satisfied about something. They don’t fit, Henry, but I am certain they are pieces.”

  “You don’t suggest, sir—” started Henry, excitedly.

  “I don’t suggest anything, Henry,” said Harrison. “I think I hear my visitor.”

  Philip Bamberger came into the room somewhat hesitatingly. The rings round his eyes showed how deeply he had been affected by his father’s death, but his composure was such that there were no traces whatever of emotion. He looked at Harrison in a hostile manner, but there was a frankness and honesty about his eyes which confirmed the opinion Harrison had already formed of him.

  “You were so insistent, Mr. Harrison, that I felt I had to come,” said Philip; “but I can’t see what use it will be to either of us.”

  “A great deal, I hope,” answered Harrison. “Sit down and let us talk a bit. You don’t trust me, do you?”

  “How can I when I know why you came here?”

  “Miss Marston told you I had come to spy on you and your father.”

  “Well—” said Philip, reddening a little.

  “‘Spy’ would be the word she used?” persisted Harrison.

  “What else would you call it?” asked Philip, sharply.

  “Very well,” replied Harrison. “Let us agree that it was the right word. You know my work. I’m paid to make inquiries. Mrs. Marston wanted me to inquire, and that is all there is to it. An anxious parent, especially with an only girl, has a right to make inquiries about her future husband. I respect Miss Marston’s loyalty to you, but I also think her mother acted quite reasonably.”

  “Of course, if you want to excuse yourself—” said Philip, distantly.

  “I don’t,” answered Harrison. “And if you feel like that, there’s no use talking. If you don’t want to trust me, Mr. Bamberger, I have nothing more to say to you. Good afternoon.”

  This was said so sternly that even Henry felt sorry for the young man, who sat in his seat, bewildered, seemingly unable to make any movement. “I liked the look of you directly I saw you,” Harrison went on more gently. “I sympathise with you most deeply, and I would hate to give you more pain than that you are bearing at present. I did not want to force this interview on you, but I sincerely wanted to help you. Do you believe that?”

  The young man looked fixedly in front of him.

  “I won’t worry you any more,” said Harrison, “I assure you, unless you feel you can trust me. But I hope you can trust me. It may mean so much to us all.”

  The young man was silent for a while and then looked frankly into Harrison’s face. “I don’t understand what you’re driving at, Mr. Harrison,” he said; “but I believe you are sincere about something. I do trust you, and I am very sorry I was rude to you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bamberger,” replied Harrison. “You are generous and make me feel rather mean, but I need your help so much, much more than you can realise at present.”

  “I don’t see why?” said Philip, looking intently at him.

  “I am sorry to have to refer to a painful subject,” said Harrison; “but are you certain your father’s heart was all right?”

  “Positive,” answered the young man.

  “And you were really puzzled by the doctor’s statement?”

  “Puzzled is a mild way of putting it,” exclaimed Bamberger, heatedly. “I was really annoyed. It was almost like suggesting that Father helped to—” The young man broke off.

  “Then you can understand that I was puzzled too.”

  “You were puzzled?”

  “Yes, Mr. Bamberger,” answered Harrison. “Now I’m going to be quite frank with you. There’s something strange in the whole of this business. I don’t know what it is at present, but I’m going to find out. I think it’s only fair to you that I should. That’s why I want to help.”

  “But I can’t imagine what you are suggesting,” said Bamberger. “It was a terrible accident.”

  “A terrible accident,” echoed Harrison.

  “You’re not suggesting it wasn’t an accident?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” replied Harrison.

  “But Mr. Marston couldn’t have done such a thing.”

  “Very well,” said Harrison.

  “But you can’t cast doubts like that without some evidence, Mr. Harrison?”

  “I am only saying at present that there is something strange about the whole thing, Mr. Bamberger. You said you would trust me. If there is anything in my ideas you would like to be certain, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course I would,” answered Bamberger. “But this is rather a shock. Mr. Marston wouldn’t do a thing like that. Why, it’s—it’s murder.”

  “I’m not going as far as that,” said Harrison. “I’m not even suggesting it, but there’s something behind this business. Something in the background. I am certain it is not just the simple accident it appears to be.”

  “Then there’s no ot
her solution,” said Bamberger.

  “We’ve got to be satisfied,” said Harrison emphatically. “You’ve got to be satisfied. Haven’t you?”

  “I suppose I have,” answered the young man. “But Livia’s father!”

  “I may be wrong,” said Harrison. “I trust I am, but I need your help. I must go back to London as soon as possible, and so I want you to keep an eye on Mr. Marston for me.”

  “I can’t,” Philip answered decisively.

  “You must,” said Harrison.

  The young man looked at him, wavered and did not answer.

  “You must watch Mr. Marston, particularly when he is out of the house,” continued Harrison; “And if anything unusual happens you must telegraph to me.” Harrison took out his case and passed Bamberger a card. “You understand?”

  The young man still did not answer, but took the card mechanically.

  “Another point,” said Harrison. “Where did the costumes for the play come from?”

  Henry looked at his master. The tone in which this question was asked was a very clear indication that Harrison had some definite theory in his mind and had worked out a way of following it up.

  “Spoker’s somewhere off the Strand,” answered Bamberger, immediately. “I wrote to them for Livia. I did all that side of the work for her. Good people, too.”

  “Excellent,” said Harrison. “Of course you won’t mention this talk to anyone else.”

  “What about Livia?” asked the young man, quickly.

  “Least of all to her,” answered Harrison.

  “I only wanted to tell her I had changed my opinion about you, Mr. Harrison, that is all,” said Philip.

  “Better not,” answered Harrison. “Although I appreciate your suggestion—you are a very generous young man, Mr. Bamberger. But it would suit me very much better if Livia kept her very poor opinion of me—” again Henry felt that Harrison’s tone implied the working out of some carefully considered plan—“you may be too honest to aid and abet her but I trust you not to try to alter it. Let her keep it.”

  “She will,” answered Bamberger, with the strongest conviction.

  Chapter VI

  Admiral Benbow

  By noon on the next day Harrison and Henry were back in the chambers in the Temple, not without a great sigh of relief on the part of the latter. Harrison had left Penstoke with some difficulty. Mrs. Marston’s attitude towards him was, in Henry’s words “a nice person to have about the house,” and she told him that she was willing to pay him any reasonable fee to stay for a few days to continue “keeping an eye on things.” Harrison had remarked that his efforts in that direction had been so useless up to that point that he could find no earthly excuse for staying, much as he would like to.

  Mrs. Marston felt that he would be a very great help to herself and her husband in such a trying time; their nerves were so unsettled that a steadying influence like his would be invaluable. Harrison had said that he appreciated the compliment, but he wondered whether really Mr. Marston was as enthusiastic about retaining him as his wife.

  “I don’t think he wants you to stay, Mr. Harrison, to be quite honest,” said Mrs. Marston; “and that is partly why I do. His nerves have been so badly shaken that I should feel very much happier if you were here with me.” Harrison had replied that he would have stayed if he really thought he could have helped, but he was needed in London, and he was certain Mrs. Marston understood her own powers with her husband. If, however, he dispatched his business in London quickly he promised he would come back. Mrs. Marston seemed relieved at this promise, and said that if she felt she needed him urgently she would send for him, all the same.

  As he left the house, Harrison had noticed that Livia Marston was standing near the front door, and the moving off of the car was responsible for a look of unalloyed satisfaction on her face. “I hardly ever remember having earned such hatred,” he mused. “Even if she is so extraordinarily in love with the young man that the thought of my being here on the errand Mrs. Marston mentioned drives her to fury, somebody else has thrown some fuel on the fire as well. I’d swear to that.”

  On his arrival, Henry immediately started a minute survey of the chambers and studied every object with the greatest care.

  “What’s the trouble, Henry?” asked Harrison, settling down to his desk. “Burglars?”

  “I don’t know yet, sir,” answered Henry, continuing his investigations.

  “Detection starts at home, Henry,” said Harrison. “Are you giving yourself a lesson?”

  “I must see that everything’s all right, sir.”

  “Well, hurry up and do it,” replied Harrison. “I shall get annoyed if you go on fidgeting about like this all day.”

  “It’s got to be done, sir.”

  “What’s got to be done?” asked Harrison, rather sharply.

  “It’s worse than burglars, sir,” answered Henry; “but I think it’s all right.”

  “Don’t talk nonsense, Henry.”

  “It isn’t nonsense, sir,” said Henry. “It’s her.”

  “Who?”

  “That Miss Williams, Jeanne de Marplay’s twin sister, or whatever you like to call her.”

  “You don’t think she’s been here.”

  “No, sir, I don’t think she has, but I shouldn’t have been surprised.”

  “Henry, your imagination is running riot. Come down to earth. We have a lot to do to-day.”

  “I’ve been trying to tell you before, sir, but I didn’t know how,” said Henry, hesitatingly; “that woman flirted with me last night.”

  “Good heavens, Henry, what a shocking thought,” said Harrison, with a roar of laughter.

  “It is shocking, sir,” said Henry, mournfully.

  “But tell me all about it, Henry,” said Harrison. “This is too wonderful. Another in your gallery of conquests—and really a remarkable one.”

  “It’s no laughing matter, sir,” answered Henry. “It’s very serious.”

  “I’m sorry, Henry,” said Harrison. “I won’t laugh. But it is rather a surprise.”

  “It was to me, sir, I can tell you,” said Henry. “I was wandering about the hall while you were having dinner and down came this Miss Williams, all ready to go to the station. I suppose her maid was putting her things in the car. We two were all alone in the hall.”

  “Very dangerous, Henry.”

  “It was, sir,” said Henry. “Seeing her coming, I strolled, unconcernedly like, to the fireplace and looked at the flowers there. Then she called ‘Henry,’ if I may say so, in a most endearing tone, sir.”

  “How charming of her.”

  “It wasn’t, sir. I knew she was up to some game, so, very respectfully and coldly at the same time, I said, ‘I don’t think we know each other, ma am’.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “She came across the room with such a smile, all flirting she was, sir, I swear it and I didn’t encourage her—and she said, ‘I know you, Henry, Mr. Harrison has told me all about you’.”

  “Oh!” said Harrison.

  “As she dragged you into it, sir, I didn’t know what to do, so I just bowed. ‘You needn’t be so distant, Henry,’ she said. ‘I know you and I know you are interested in me because you’ve been talking to my maid.’ I started apologising but she stopped me at once. ‘I’m not annoyed, Henry. I like it from people like you,’ and she gave me another of her smiles.”

  “Pretty good, Henry.”

  “But she’s not my type, sir; you know she isn’t. That sort of thing doesn’t impress me—” Harrison smiled—“but she had rather caught me and so I suppose I looked a bit kinder than I had been looking. She told me she liked that better. She would like me much better, too, if I talked to her instead of her maid. If I wanted her address she would be only too pleased to give it to me. Magenta Hotel she was going to, and if I cared to come and see her there she would he only too delighted.”

  “Better still, Henry.”

  “
Then she said that it was rather a shame to tease me—tease me, sir—and that I must think it very forward of her to ask me to come and see her, but, after all, that could be the only reason I wanted her address. Did I think it very forward? I felt such a fool, sir, because I had to answer ‘No.’ What else could I have done?”

  “Very difficult, Henry.”

  “Thank you, sir,” answered Henry. “I’m glad you agree, at any rate. Then she said she must be going. I mustn’t forget to come and see her because—and these were her very words—‘the eyes of Helen , Henry,’ she said, ‘will be on you wherever you are. They will always be watching you although you do not know it. So you won’t forget, I know you won’t.’ And she actually kissed her hand to me as she went out of the door, sir.”

  “Well, I think you’ve been very lucky, Henry,” said Harrison. “And it’s because she said she had her eyes on you that you searched through the rooms?”

  “Exactly, sir.”

  “A wise precaution, Henry,” said Harrison. “She is a very remarkable woman.”

  “That woman haunts me, sir,” said Henry, pathetically.

  “Well, don’t brood on it,” commented Harrison. “We’ve a great deal to do, and first for the worthy Spoker.”

  “The costume man?”

  “Yes. Look him up in the telephone directory, Henry, and we’ll go round at once.”

  Henry found the address and they went out together into the Strand. In a side turning they found the shop of Spoker. It was quite a smart looking little place with odd costumes temptingly displayed in a very clean window. An outfit for a Knight Templar nested near that of an Ottoman tyrant, and jewellery of the most radiant, if rather exotic characters, sparkled from every corner.

  “The wealth of the Orient, Henry,” said Harrison.

  “Paste,” said Henry, decisively.

  Harrison went in, followed by Henry, and found a little middle-aged man with a well-trimmed beard and bright heady eyes moving jerkily among the stock as if his nerves were not in the best of order.